


Dwight Trapped

by kkamli



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Murder, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26251510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkamli/pseuds/kkamli
Summary: No plot, just quick and gross smut.
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield & Evan MacMillan | The Trapper
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Dwight Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> Not for the faint of heart, not for anyone who's under 18. Written for nasty monsterfucking freaks. If you're into it, please leave me prompts. I'll write anything in the fandom, with the exception of reader/you fics.

The shockingly loud snap had Dwight jolting so hard, it took a moment for him to realize he was caught. Metal teeth tore into his ankle, making his attempt to step forward agonizing. He cried out before he could stop himself.

The trapper, as they call him, will have heard. He bends to attempt freeing himself with fumbling fingers. His lower lip is in his teeth and his eyes are glazed with tears. He tries to make himself small against the wood of the shack, less visible. He pauses his struggle altogether when a familiar, dooming sound fills the air. He spots the shadow of the entity spreading across the ground as one of his friends is swept towards the sky. 

The dread that fills him is all too familiar. He inhales deeply. His nostrils rattle with snot in a too-noisy sniffle. He tries to clear his head and make sense of the trap that's now coated in his own gushing blood. He's not sure if it's his glasses getting salt-speckled or his panic that's making it so hard to see, but he has every hope and confidence that he'll get out of this one. Until he hears the low drum of a heartbeat. 

He increases his struggle, but only hears the sound of a few swift footsteps before a hard metal claps him across the back of his head and he falls flat, ankle still bound in metal teeth. He has a glance back to see the scars and metal adorning the thick arm of the brute they know as Trapper. 

The monster is stepping over top of him. He can't even catch a glimpse of it's mask as a giant hand claims the back of his skull and holds his face into dirt. His teeth clench, but he can still taste it. He knows there's no one left in the trial who can help him.

He didn't want to die today. He died yesterday, and the day before that. He weakly struggles under the monster's heavy weight. He's not being carried to a hook. No sacrifice. This one will hurt. 

The cleaver strikes across his upper back. Dwight's mouth opens in a dirt-muffled scream. It strikes again, lower, tearing open his mid back in a line that crosses over the scar made above it. His body shakes as he waits for the next blow, but there's a long enough pause for him to begin to adjust to this new pain. 

He hears a rip and comes to realize that his shirt is being torn away. Calloused large hands explore his upper, bleeding back. It takes Dwight a moment to realize this means his head has been released, and he can turn his face to take a breath. His glasses are so covered in dirt, he can't see a thing. He spits soil. It leaks in a brown drool over his chin. 

There are two gaping scars on his back and thick fingertips are prodding at the edges of them. With horror, Dwight understands that the monster is trying to peel his skin back. He screams. "No, no!" 

It doesn't matter. The Trapper manages to plunge his finger tips into one of the scars and push at the skin around it from underneath. The new method of torture causes a bile to rise into Dwight's throat, mixing with dirt. 

Being in a trial would be the place that Dwight could experience a pain that could also be described as gentle. It's a cruel, prodding, horrific pain that doesn't allow his head to swim or a numbness to sweep him. It's a pain more like an itch, but the terror behind grips him as tightly as the metal teeth of the trap. He can't move, really, he can only shudder and scream. 

The fingers curve beneath his skin in a grip, and Dwight has no fight in him as he's lifted by his bleeding flesh. Just a scream that rips his throat. He's settled on his knees. He didn't realize that the Trapper actually let him go until the monster steps around in front of him. He can still feel the cold, hard fingers inside of him. He raises his hands to take off his dirt coated glasses so he can look at the monster, have some understanding that he's really there. 

His wrists are grabbed and twisted, so he screams again. When his hands are released, he leans far back, not wanting to fall forward when he can't catch himself. Instead, he relies on his back legs. 

The monster is grunting in front of him, shifting in some way he doesn't understand without being able to properly see. He should relish the moment of peace, but it isn't peace. It's dread and terror and the feeling of those fingers prying up his skin, lingering. 

A louder grunt, and Dwight feels the fingers prodding his face, pulling down at his chin. Dwight opens his mouth, and a hard and pierced appendage pushes it's way inside of it. The Trapper's fucking cock, forcing it's way to the back of his throat. Dwight starts to move, but the hand that fingered his chin now wraps around the back of his head, making it feel small. 

Dwight sniffles more and tries desperately to breath. A horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach turns into vomit gushing up in his throat, with no space to go. He can feel it filling his nostrils. His head is yanked back and forth, but never far enough back that his mouth can open and taste air. It doesn't. His head feels like it will explode. His body feels like it will explode. He registers that The Trapper's hard dick has warmed in his mouth, and is disgustingly pulsing. Whatever metal has pierced it scrapes on his teeth. 

Wrists broken or not, he attempts to push away in desperate tries, his hands touching the monster's hips. Instead, he suffocates painfully. 

He wakes up by the campfire. He has no scars, his glasses are clean. Still, he feels The Trapper inside of him. 

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If you like this sort of thing, please let me know and leave some prompts so I can write more in this fandom. :) I can be found here, or on tumblr as okspidermandoaflip, or on twitch as basiceli.


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